


break in?

by zhuzhubi



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Hair-pulling, Minor Degradation Kink, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Smut, getting caught having sex, lol, with consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:22:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25378366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhuzhubi/pseuds/zhuzhubi
Summary: you and spencer mess up your apartment having sex, and decide cleaning up can wait until the morning(or, reid x reader learn not cleaning up was a mistake)
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader
Kudos: 234





	break in?

**Author's Note:**

> also at zhuzhubii on tumblr, if you prefer
> 
> ...
> 
> chapter 3 of the hitman and the profiler is a lot longer than i expected it to be thats why its taking so long sorry

When he gets home from work you’re dressed in nothing but one of his shirts - a purple button-down he loves, buttoned up far enough to just barely cover your chest - and perched on the kitchen counter. His eyes flash with desire, but he ignores you, peeling off his outer layers and walking over to his desk to drop off his satchel. 

You pout and hop off the counter, sauntering over to him as he sits down and pulls out some case reports he brought home to finish. 

“Spen-cer,” you tease, “those don’t have to be done until Monday, come play with me.”

“Be patient, (y/n),” he replies, not even glancing in your direction - _how rude!_

Just as he’s putting a pen to one of the files, you straddle his lap, causing his arm to jerk on the page. You can see how irritated he is with you, but you can also feel his interest beneath you as you shift your hips.

“You ruined the page, brat. I’m gonna have to print out a new one now,” he growls, but from the way he’s spreading his legs - just a little - you can tell he’s about to give you exactly what you want.

“You gonna let me get away with it, Doctor?” you whisper, right in his ear where you know he can feel your breath on his cheek, knowing how much he likes his title. He makes a sound low in his throat and closes his hands around your hips, tight enough to bruise, grinding up into you.

All of the sudden, he slams you back into the desk, spinning you around and pushing your chest down onto the wooden surface. Bends over you and grabs you by the hair, pulling you up to snarl, “You’re gonna do whatever I tell you to, brat. Got that?”

You give a little nod, straining against the grip he has on you, but it’s not enough for him. He shoves himself into you, and you into the desk as a result. His desk lamp clatters to the floor, along with a coffee mug full of pens which cracks on impact. He tightens his grasp on your hair, “I said got that, brat? You answer me when I ask you a question, little girl.”

You gasp, “Yes, Dr. Reid, I understand.”

“Good,” he spits out, giving you one last shove before spinning you back around - your arms knocking books and papers and a half-full mug of stale coffee from yesterday to the floor in the process - and forcing you to your knees. You know what he wants, but you play ignorant, tiling your head and giving him a questioning look. He’s real angry now, pulling you to your feet by your wrist and practically dragging you across the living space, back over to the kitchenette. 

“You wanted me to take you in here didn’t you, brat?” he growls, shoving you into the little dining table and watching with satisfaction as you clatter to the floor along with it. 

You give him a coy look and answer, “Yes, Doctor.”

He smirks and brings you back up to your knees, forcing your face into his crotch and spitting out, “You know what I want, brat, don’t play dumb.”

You smile and give him a kiss over his slacks, raising your hands to his belt ever so slowly, relishing in the way he makes a heady noise and bucks his hips involuntarily. You finally unzip his pants for him, providing obvious relief from how tight they’ve gotten. He closes his hands around the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair once again, though more delicately this time. You palm him a few times over his underwear, grinning to yourself when you feel the dampness of pre-cum soaking through, before you tug them off and let them drop to the floor along with his slacks. 

You let his cock rest against your lips and look up to meet his gaze, dark with arousal, giving a few laps to the tip. He groans and shoves your face forward into him once he grows impatient, so you lick a stripe from head to base, then take him in your mouth as deeply as you can, allowing yourself to choke a little. 

He’s gentle at first, giving you time to adjust to having his length down your throat, before tightening his grip in your hair and forcing you to take him further, holding your head still as he thrusts into you, “You like tasting my cock, huh brat? You like it when I fuck your face?”

You groan at his words, hearing him gasp at the vibration, sneaking a hand between your own legs to alleviate your own tension, though you know you’re not supposed to. He’s too blissed out to notice at first, eyes half-lidded as he uses you for his own pleasure, but once he does he hisses and pulls you back up to your feet, hands bruising rings around your wrists, “Did I say you could touch yourself, brat?”

“No, Doctor,” you whimper, giving him a pouty look in hopes he’ll be merciful.

“You’ve been such a naughty little girl today, trying to seduce me as soon as I got home and not letting me finish my work, and now you think you’re allowed to touch yourself? I don’t know if you deserve to come today, brat,” he growls, and you keen - much too desperate for release to be content with not finishing.

“No, Doctor, I’m sorry! Please, I promise I’ll be a good girl from now on, please please let me come,” you’re not above begging, hopeful he’ll take pity on you.

All he says is, “we’ll see, brat,” before bending you over the kitchen counter and teasing the tip of his cock at your entrance, “are you gonna be good while I fuck you?”

“Yes, Doctor, I’ll be good, please fuck me,” excitement leaks into your voice at the feeling of him pressing against you, hot and wet and heavy.

All of the sudden he shoves himself inside, hiking up your - _his_ \- shirt and burying his length as deep as you can take him, making you scream with pleasure as his cock stretches you. He doesn’t waste any time, grasping you by the hips and setting a fast pace, both thrusting himself forward and pulling you back into him. He’s panting behind you as he chases his release, hitting that spot inside of you, but still ignoring where you want his attention the most.

You rock your hips back into him, matching his pace and giving little swishes you know he likes in hopes it will spur him to let you come. He gasps and moans out, “Ohhh that’s it little girl, just like that,” and he must’ve decided you’re being good girl for him because he slides a hand between you and the kitchen counter, massaging circles into your clit the way he knows you like in time with his thrusts. 

Your own whines of pleasure match his groans, rumbling low in his throat as his hips start to stutter. He wraps an arm around your chest and pulls you flush against him, teasing a thumb around one of your nipples through your shirt. His breath is hot against your neck, panting out, “Good girl, you’re such a good girl for me (y/n),” and that’s what pushes you over the edge, your orgasm radiating through your body and making you tense around him. He lets out a little, “Ah, ah, ah!” before you feel him finish inside of you, his release hot as it spurts out of him. 

He rocks you both through the aftershocks, giving softs kisses and mumbling praise into your neck. He turns you around to kiss you properly, thumbs across your cheeks and runs a hand down your back, humming a little as he smiles into your lips. 

“You knocked over the table,” you mumble with a little huff of a laugh, “how’re we supposed to eat dinner?”

He chuckles, “well, little girl, we can just pick it back up again,” then, seeing your pout, “or we can eat leftovers in bed and clean up in the morning.”

“Mmhmm,” you say, “leftovers sounds good,” then untangle yourself from him and go to grab the leftover Chinese from yesterday from the fridge, “I wanna see you try to use chopsticks again.”

“(y/n),” this time it’s him pouting, “can’t I just have a fork?”

“Nope,” you tease, popping the P, “come on, Mr. 187, practice makes perfect!”

Handing him a take-out box and a pair of disposable chopsticks, and grabbing your own set, you nudge him toward the bedroom for dinner.

…

“Where the hell are they?” Morgan asks with impatience, “Reid’s never late.”

“Maybe (y/n)’s taking a while to get ready, or they just forgot about brunch,” JJ answers.

“Boy genius? He never forgets about anything!” Garcia interjects, a look of worry starting to grow on her face.

“Look, guys. I’m sure they just caught up in some - _ahem!_ \- extracurricular activities and lost the time, just text Reid and tell them to meet us at the restaurant,” says Rossi, the voice of reason.

“Nah, man, Reid? I bet he’s the type of guy that _schedules_ getting busy, no way would he be late for brunch just because he and (y/n) are going at it,” argues Morgan, still unaccustomed to viewing his ‘kid brother’ as an adult.

“Why don’t we just go up and knock on the door?” suggests Emily.

Everyone seems to agree on this idea, save Rossi, who still seems a little skeptical but follows nonetheless.

Once they reach the apartment Morgan gives a few knocks then, hearing no response, starts pounding on the door, “Hey Reid! _Reid!_ Reid, man, where the hell are you!?”

He’s just starting to look like he’s about to kick the door down when JJ interjects, “Hey! Calm down, he gave me a spare for emergencies. We can just unlock it.”

Even Rossi is a little worried now - _how the hell could they have not heard Morgan? He must’ve woken everyone in living in this hallway!_ \- so no one objects when JJ unlocks the door and pushes it open. 

Upon seeing the apartment - dining table knocked over, desk contents strewn across the living room - everyone is immediately on high alert, pulling back-up weapons out of purses and ankle holsters - _there’s been a break-in!_

They start creeping forward when a noise emanates from the bedroom - _a cry of alarm!_ \- and everyone runs over with the haste of trained field agents. Morgan stops in front of the door and quickly signals one, two, three, then pushes it open, gun poised.

“FBI! Don’t move!”

“ _AH!_ ” says Spencer, poised on top of you, buck-naked and mid thrust.

 _“AH!_ ” you say, suddenly noticing all the people intruding on you and your boyfriend.

“ _AH!_ ” says the BAU team, running into each other in their haste to backtrack out of the door. 

Spencer leaps out of bed, scurrying over to the dresser to throw on a t-shirt and sweats, tossing a set of your own clothes in your direction as he pulls on his own. You dress in a daze, a look of horror on your face to match his. Once you’ve finished dressing, he creeps over to the door and tentatively cracks it open, checking to make sure his erection has subsided before peeking his head out to look for his team. You follow behind, hiding behind him as you notice them gaping at each other in the living room. 

“What the fuck, guys!?” is what Spencer exclaims once he finds his voice, “How the hell did you get in here!?”

JJ opens and closes her mouth a few times before settling on, “You - we’re all having brunch today, you said you’d meet us outside at 10! And then you didn’t show up and you’re never late and we all got worried and I have a spare for emergencies - ”

“You couldn’t have just, I don’t know, _called_!?” Spencer replies in exasperation.

Nobody seems to have an answer for that, it clearly didn’t cross their minds - _I thought these guys were supposed to be smart!_

“I told you guys they were probably just having sex,” Rossi mutters, and everyone’s eyes snap towards him, your’s and Spencer’s faces finding an embarrassed flush to replace the horrified pallor. 

Spencer manages to collect himself as you hide your face in his shoulder, cheeks burning, “did you guys really have to barge in with your guns out, though? What gave you the impression we were in danger?”

Morgan gives him an exasperated look and gestures around the apartment, “kid, look at your living room. What the hell happened?”

“You don’t want him to answer that,” Emily says knowingly, sending a smirk in your direction - _she clearly gets around!_

Morgan grimaces, “on second thought, yeah. Don’t answer that.”

Spencer takes a deep breath and looks to the ceiling for a second to regain his composure once again, “we’ll meet you there?”

Rossi starts herding everyone else out of your apartment, giving you both a wink, “take as long as you need.”

A little squeak escapes your lips as your face flushes even more - _I didn’t think that was possible!_ When you glance up at Spencer he looks a bit like a frog, cheeks puffed and mouth pulled tight. He watches the door close behind his team, then rushes over to make sure it’s locked. He turns and collapses back onto it, looking like he’d be happy if he ceased to exist - _at least they weren’t my coworkers, oh my god!_

You reach a hand out to him and ask, “shower?” because you don’t really know what else to say.

He replies, “yeah,” then, contemplating his life circumstances a little more, “my coworkers have seen my penis!” as if that’s the worst part of this whole ordeal.

“Your coworkers have seen you _going at it_ , I think them seeing your penis is the least of your concerns in this situation!” you retort, then the two of you burst into laughter from the sheet hilarity of it all.

“They thought someone broke in!”

“Morgan was all _FBI! Hands up!_ ”

“ _Oh my god!_ ”

…

_“You fucked so hard you knocked over the kitchen table?”_

_“Shut up!”_

_“Good for you, pretty ricky!”_


End file.
